If you think I am a wavering worn-out weasel!
And if you presume, I am a beguiled broken badger!
I’d like to say to you all – I’m not finished yet!
If you conclude, my being destroyed was your bet!!!
The bridges I built were not of just wood and steel;
And if you thought all along, there was none behind the wheel
And if you start fathoming that fate is all about being even keel
I tell you; it was all my humble soul at play; to which, in obeisance, you must all kneel!!
I had much traction in my trajectory; did I hear the troubadour say…
When you couldn’t do it then, you just saved it for another day?
And there are no tragic gravestones in my santalaceous woods of clay
Ephemerality is not my noun, death doesn’t kill me, be it September or May!
And you can see that, on spitfire, I forged my awesome sword,
Even though, on my rubber bullet train, there was none, but me, aboard!!!
I took the route alone; and was resolutely devoted to duty’s road!
And count the trillion times, I faced, on my own, the evil malevolent horde!!!!
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